I was 20 years old when I first met Josh Boone. I was a small, relatively quiet kid, fresh out of my second year in an American yeshiva in Jerusalem, trying to join an IDF combat unit. My yeshiva wasn’t known for sending students to the army, but I was raised in a Zionist home, went to a Zionist school, and I knew what I wanted.
When the draft call finally came, I moved into a run-down building for lone soldiers in Jerusalem. No furniture, no appliances – just a bed frame, a closet, and a roommate. I didn’t care. I was just happy to be on my own, starting my journey. It wasn’t long before I met Josh.
Josh lived a few floors above me and had made it his mission to befriend everyone in the building. We were complete opposites. I was small and reserved; Josh was big and larger than life. I grew up on the East Coast of the United States, in an Orthodox home, and was fresh out of yeshiva. Josh grew up in Idaho and would spend Shabbat chain-smoking and contemplating which tattoo to get next.
None of that stopped him from approaching me with a goofy smile on his face, offering me some chewing tobacco, and
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